


The Deleted Captain Swan Scenes

by AtOnceUponSomeChaos



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtOnceUponSomeChaos/pseuds/AtOnceUponSomeChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single place for my one-shot "deleted scene" Captain Swan fics. Because the show is all "plot plot plot", I find myself longing for these scenes, whether in the very near future, or in already aired episodes. Written as if also canon, and will follow current canon through posting (FEELS people, but as the show is on ABC, no smut). Cross posted at ff.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Truth or Dare (3x14)

**Author's Note:**

> Truth or Dare: Emma thought Hook was different—he believed in her superpower. So why did he keep lying to her? (Canon.. and head canon through 3x14)

_**Emma thought Hook was different—he believed in her superpower. So why did he keep lying to her? (Canon.. and head canon through 3x14)** _

* * *

_**TRUTH OR DARE** _

Emma couldn't sleep—the nightmare too real, the room too hot.

The kid snoring on the pull-out bed too loud.

She exited her room at the B&B—the same room from her first arrival in Storybrooke—and tiptoed to the first floor, hoping some hot chocolate might be enough to lull her back to sleep.

_Ha._

_Sleep after that dream?_

_Not going to happen._

Emma found him downstairs, standing by the window, his hook pulling back the curtain while he peered outside. She paused on the creaky step—stealth no longer an option. "Is there something I should be worried about?"

Hook glanced at her, his eyes meeting hers briefly in the dimly lit room before returning to his vigil. "Merely a feeling, love. I would wake you if it was more than that."

_Lie._

_Again._

She took a moment to study him, noting his lack of vest and coat—his black shirt loose, hanging free, and completely unbuttoned—his leather pants covering his legs instead of the pajama bottoms David had loaned him, and his hair tousled and askew.

_No one should look that hot with bedhead._

She dug her nails into her palms, curbing the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him.

An urge occurring with more and more frequency.

_Damn him._

"Perhaps you should take my photograph with that communication device you carry, Swan." He smirked at her, his eyes traveling over her before glancing away. "To remember me should you lose your memory again."

Heat flooded her cheeks— _how did he do that?—_ and she tried to cover it with an eye roll and changed the subject. "It's 3 a.m. What are you really doing down here?" She continued down the steps, joining him by the window.

"I already told you." His eyes remained focused outside.

Emma could see the shadows beneath his eyes now, highlighted by the slashes of light seeping through the crack in the curtain. "You're lying. Again."

His eyes found hers, the intensity shimmering in the blue depths sending a shiver down her spine. "Perhaps the answers are not yours to know."

She treaded dangerous territory and needed to walk away, to go back to her room and pretend this moment never happened.

_But he lied!_

_To me._

_The one guy I thought I could trust._

_He's like everyone else._

_He's hiding something._

_Why?_

_Something I need to know._

_Are you sure about that?_

Instead of walking away and doing the smart thing, she invaded his space, closing the remaining distance between them, just like he so often did with her. "I thought you were different. But you're no better than the rest of them."

The words were a mistake, laced with a hint of bitterness and anger beneath the sadness. She wanted to take them back.

She wanted to scream them again.

_God I'm a mess._

His eyes bored into hers, blazing anger mingled with pain, his posture rigid and tense, like a dangerous animal waiting to strike.

A part of her wanted him to strike, welcomed it.

Craved it.

He leaned into her, bringing their faces within an inch of touching, his breath hot against her lips. "Now who's the one lying, love?"

A simple shift in weight from either of them and their lips would meet. The pull to lean forward and kiss him was suddenly so strong Emma wondered if a spell was involved.

_No. Don't let him do this. Don't let him off the… hook._

"Prove me wrong. Tell me the whole truth."

_I dare you._

The words remained unspoken, but his sharp intake of breath made it clear he'd heard the message.

_You're playing with fire._

_You're going to get burned._

"As you wish." His hook—even partially dressed he wore it—traveled up her side, the coolness seeping through the material of her plaid pajamas until it brushed a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "But first, answer three questions for me."

This reminded her of the game Truth or Dare—only this wasn't a game.

_I'm not going to like this._

"Fine." The heat radiated between them, trapped in the narrow space between their bodies and she fought herself, wanting to bring his skin against hers, knowing she'd never get her answers if she did. "But they have to be yes or no questions."

He raised an eyebrow at her, a small smile hinting on his lips. "You're taking all of the fun out of this, love. Very well." His fingers brushed her hand so lightly she wondered if it was accident. "Do you trust me?"

She swallowed, her instinct to tell him no, because he had  _lied_  to her.

But his honesty in allowing her to see they were lies, that he hid things from her….

She kept her eyes on his, though a part of her feared handing him this power over her. "Yes."

He nodded, as if the answer was anticipated, but she couldn't miss the flare of hope in his eyes. He cleared his throat. "Next question, love. Would it please you to know that I kept my word, and not a day has gone by over the last year that I have not thought of you?"

Her insides twisted at his question and she looked away, remembering their good-bye at the town line, her encouragement of him to do just that, only to forget minutes later he even existed.

_He thought of me. Every. Day._

_God._

His hook tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, his demanding stare weakened by the vulnerability dancing in the depths. "Swan? Answer the question."

Her heart pounded—she wasn't ready, she couldn't, she was just in love with someone else—and she bit her lip, wondering if it was too late to flee to her room.

He smirked at her, but it never reached his eyes, and his hook traveled down her neck before dropping to his side, the smooth curve sending another shiver through her. "If you don't want to answer, just walk away. Nothing is keeping you here."

 _Pain_.

She heard it through his words.

Through the façade he seemed to wear more and more—with her, for  _her_ —since arriving in Storybrooke.

She couldn't walk away.

"Yes." She swallowed again, her eyes glued to his. "The answer is yes."

Happiness flickered in his eyes— _and she thought the broody pirate was hot? damn, the happy one was even more devastating_ —before he masked it. His hook played with her hair again as he smiled, a genuine one this time. "Last question, love." He licked his lips before bringing them closer to hers. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Heat flooded her, a blend of desire and anger—at him, at herself.

_Fucking pirate._

_Walked right into that one, didn't I?_

_He can't have this too._

She let her anger shine through, using it to hide her other feelings. "How about a punch in the face?"

And— _damn him_ —he smiled at her, and the warmth spread through her body no matter how hard she tried to contain it. "A simple yes or no will suffice." She glared at him and Hook quirked an eyebrow at her. "Your rules, darling, not mine."

_I should kiss that smile right off of his face._

_But that's what he wants._

_I'm not ready. It's too soon. Just a few days ago I kissed someone else and…_

… _.and look how well that turned out._

She continued to throw her anger at him. "Afraid to try it after the last time?"

The smile left his face— _she missed it, dammit_. His eyes darkened and she swore a mask lifted from his face, allowing her to see the fear and insecurity normally kept buried. "Terrified, but not for the reason you think." He pressed his forehead against hers, his next words barely a whisper. "Answer, or our deal is done."

"Yes." The word was out before she could stop it and she fought for damage control. "But I can't."

His nose brushed against hers and his mouth— _dear god his mouth_ —was so close. "Why not?"

_Because sometimes a kiss isn't just a kiss._

_Sometimes it is nothing. Meaningless._

_And sometimes..._

_Sometimes it is everything._

_And everything has the power to destroy me._

Luckily she didn't owe him an answer. "That's four questions, Hook, and it isn't even a yes or no one."

She caught the agony in his eyes before he stepped back and turned away from her, his gaze going to the window. "Too right, love."

Cold surrounded her with the loss of his body heat and she rubbed her arms to get warm again, her anger gone as quickly as it had arrived. "We had a deal, Hook. You promised me the truth."

Even from a few feet away the tension radiating off his body was palpable and she had to fight the urge to touch him all over again.

_He is a magnet, always pulling me in._

She wanted to soothe him and take away the pain.

She wanted to feel his skin against hers. Something as simple as lacing her fingers with his or—

_Dammit!_

_Not going to happen._

"Are you certain you want it, Swan? After all, you might not be able to handle it." He wouldn't look at her—he missed the blush lacing her cheeks—and she wondered what else he hoped to hide.

_Can I handle it?_

_My last boyfriend turned into a flying monkey and I bashed him with a pipe._

_I can handle anything._

_Liar._

"Prove you aren't like the others."

_Everyone who lied._

_Who left me._

_Who broke my heart._

He sighed and faced her again, this time keeping a few feet between them. "By telling you the truth?"

"It's a start."

He pulled his flask from his pocket, popping the lid off and taking a swig before offering it to her. "Don't say I didn't warn you, love."

She took it from him, taking a hit before handing it back, their fingers brushing as she did.

Such a little touch.

_I want more._

_No you don't, dammit._

"I left your family in the Enchanted Forest, not because I was bored, but because they were content to leave you to your happy life built on lies. They believed Regina when she told us there was no way back to you."

She ignored the twinge of hurt—her parents would always find each other, but her, with her their magic always seemed to stop.

_Not for Hook._

Emma raised her eyebrows at him. "But you didn't?"

He returned the look. "I've spent my life accomplishing impossible tasks, love. Why should saving you be any different?"

The heat returned with his words.

_He wanted to save me._

_He came back for me._

_No one ever comes back._

She shoved the thoughts away. "So you didn't spend the year swashbuckling on your ship?"

"I did seek out the Jolly Roger. I didn't lie to your father—the Jolly Roger was my home—but she's also made of enchanted wood and I knew she was the best way to travel the realms to find you." Hook's gaze burned into her again. "But I didn't wait for a message to search for you. I began that journey the day we were ripped apart."

"Why?

He shrugged. "Someone had to save the Savior, since your false memories prohibited you from saving yourself."

_Lie._

_Or half-truth?_

"You're still hiding something, Hook."

A string of curses erupted from his lips and his control seemed to snap. He took a long stride toward her until only the tiniest sliver of space remained between them and she looked away before closing her eyes, suddenly afraid of what she might learn.

_Be careful what you wish for._

"Look at me, Emma." A broken plea.

_I can't. I can't._

_I—_

She opened her eyes to find his, open and unguarded, allowing her to see everything he'd sought to protect her from.

_Hurt. Hope. Determination. Desperation._

_Love._

_Nonono. She was reading him wrong. She had to be._

_You know you aren't._

_He hasn't exactly been subtle, if you're willing to see._

His words startled her from her thoughts.

"What do you want to hear, love? Do you want to know about how much it hurt you didn't even want to tell me goodbye at the town line? How badly I wanted to hold you close when I saw your tears? How elated I was when you whispered "good" and I believed you returned even a fraction of my feelings? How I vowed to save you the moment I recognized your wish to never forget your family?

She backed away from the force of his words, colliding with the wall as he refused to allow her the space she desperately sought, matching her steps.

_You asked for this._

"Everything I did, every sacrifice, every bloody moment of my life from that point on was to find  _you_. To save  _you_. To get back to  _you_. "

"I didn't ask you to." She forced the words out, barely able to whisper them, still reeling from his confession.

His knuckles brushed against her cheek, wiping a dampness away she hadn't noticed. "Aye, you did, Swan. You forget, you're an open book to me. Every part of you hoped someone would find you, like your boy found you. How could I not do that for you?"

Her body shook, fighting to hold back the tears while his words bombarded the few walls remaining.

_No. This is too much._

Another brush of his hand. "I had to find you."

_He warned you. You didn't listen._

"I needed to find you."

_I'm not ready for this._

"You see, I—"

She grabbed his wrist, ignoring the searing heat of his skin and guiding it back to his side. "Stop… Please. Just  _stop_."

His breath brushed her ear as he leaned closer. "Are you quite certain, love? I'm just getting to the really good part."

She shivered, whether from the caress of his words, or fear of what he might say, she wasn't sure.

_Do I want to know?_

_Yes._

_No._

_Maybe._

_No._

_Shit._

_Just tell him the truth._

"I don't know." She realized her hand still held his wrist and dropped it like a hot potato.

"It can wait until you do." The mask slid back into place almost instantly. He stepped away, giving her a nod before turning his back and resuming peering out the window.

_Go away._

_His body language screamed "go away"._

_Pretend this never happened._

_Listen this time._

Her bare feet thudded softly on the wooden floors, the loudest noise the creak of the second step.

It made her pause.

_Don't leave him like that._

_Tell him._

"I was wrong. You aren't like everyone else. I just need some time to… process that."

He twisted around, eyes seeking hers again, but she was too far away to see what they held. "I'm not going anywhere, darling." He gave her a little bow. "Goodnight, Swan."

_He would stay._

_He wouldn't leave._

_Did that surprise her?_

_Not anymore._

A smile crossed her face. "Goodnight… _Killian_."

* * *

He watched her until she disappeared, waiting for the telltale click of her door before dropping his shield, his body nearly collapsing as it sagged with the weight of what he'd done.

Emma hadn't been ready to hear his words and he was thankful she'd only heard a portion of everything he'd spent the last year bottling inside.

He had no other choice; she'd forced his hand. Hiding the truth from her, having to lie, it grated on him and she'd picked up on it instantly.

He doubted she'd press him for answers again.

" _What are you really doing down here?"_

_A nightmare shattering his sleep. A winged monkey—the one she'd nearly married—crashing through the window at Granny's, ripping Emma away from him, cackling as he flew away, "She loved me, but she'll never love you."_

He needed to stand guard, as ridiculous as it sounded, and make sure it did not come true.

" _I thought you were different. But you're no better than the rest of them."_

Her words lashed at him—she'd meant them too—trying to keep him at arms length.

If she knew, even slightly, of all he'd done to find her—of the deal he'd made…. She might push him away forever.

Though if he failed to win her heart…

_That will be the least of my problems._

If only she would let him in, truly  _see_  and accept him.

And stop being afraid he'd hurt her.

Or abandon her.

_As if I could._

Accept his love….

Killian held her answers tight in his heart, flaming the hope that refused to die.

_They were enough. For now._

_Tick tock._

Until time ran out the clock.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else need this to happen in the show?
> 
> I'll be adding more "deleted scenes" to this fic (as I'm inspired), so they can all be under one spot.
> 
> As always, many thanks to Arandil, my amazing beta.
> 
> Review?


	2. Sleepover (3x12)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on what happened the night following the whole "Walsh turned into a flying monkey". Follows canon through 3x12, written so it fits canon through current episode 3x16.

 

* * *

" _Swan, what the blazes was that?"_

" _A reminder. That I was never safe. That what I wanted, what I thought I could have, was never in the cards for The Savior."_

* * *

" _We leave in the morning."_

Her dismissal carried more edge than she'd intended, but right now she needed to be alone. She left the roof, certain Hook had heard the obvious "good-bye" in her words. She didn't need the perceptive pirate around, tossing her looks of understanding or heated glances full of promise.

_This morning I was ready to say yes and now…._

Emma couldn't think about it or she'd go crazy.

_Focus on being The Savior. This is your job. This is what you do._

_Do not think about how you fell in love and almost got engaged to an flying mon—_

_Dammit!_

She slammed the steel door in her mind shut—now was not the time to wallow in her own stupidity—and walked into her apartment, so focused on making a beeline for the liquor she almost tripped over the chair laying on the floor.

"What the—" She immediately moved into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block, afraid somehow Walsh had poofed into her apartment. She held it in front of her as she slowly maneuvered through the room, wondering where he hid. "Come out and face me, you creepy piece of—"

The sound of front door knob twisting caused her to sprint to the wall next to it, flicking off the lights by the door. Her body tensed, ready to ambush the intruder. The door creaked open, the movement slow and cautious.

The dim hall light provided the perfect silhouette as he entered the apartment and Emma reacted. She grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back and pressing her blade against his neck as the figure froze.

"How about you tell me  _what_ you really are?"

"Really, love? I thought we passed this point some time ago."

_What the—_

"Hook?" She released him, wondering why she hadn't recognized his unmistakable form before now.

_My savior skills are rusty._

"You shouldn't go sneaking into someone's apartment." She flipped on the lights.

"You invited me over, if you recall." He rubbed his neck with his hand and she winced at the thin raised line etched now etched into his skin. "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

"The chair was knocked over when I came in. I thought Walsh—" She stopped, knowing she would sound crazy.

_Welcome to the world of being the Savior._

_Remember you are talking to Captain Hook. If anyone would understand…_

He gave her a quick nod. "I'm afraid that was my doing. I was in a bit of a rush at the time."

Emma gave him a dubious look.

_He couldn't have known…._

"Let's just say I trusted my gut, darling."

She didn't know whether to be angry—that Hook had refused to stay put—or grateful he rushed to help, even if she hadn't needed it.

She decided on the safest option: neither, and buried the hint of warmth his actions fired within her. "What are you doing here? I told you we'd leave in the morning."

"I merely wanted to make sure you were alright." He gave her a concerned look. "I know this day has not been an easy one.

_I'm fine._

The words were on the tip of her tongue when she bit them back.

_I am most definitely not fine. It's a lie._

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one." God, she needed another drink.

He shuffled in place, as if uncertain what to do next. "Do you want me to leave?"

_No._

The answer was instant,  _her_  gut reaction. She'd thought she wanted to be alone because it was easier.

But she didn't.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

His eyes communicated she hadn't fooled him— _dammit he knew_ —and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Does it matter if I do?"

_What is this, twenty questions?_

_I need him to leave. Before he hurts me too._

_I need him to stay because..._

_Fucking pirate._

She rolled her eyes. "Get the bottle. I'm going to need some more alcohol." She turned away, closing the door, the slide of the bolt and the chain suddenly loud, echoing with the possible stupidity of her decision.

_The Savior and the sexy Pirate, alone together with copious amounts of alcohol._

She joined him at the table where he poured the amber fluid into their glasses—a glint of...something… sparking in his eyes as they met hers.

_Worst idea ever._

_Unless… it wasn't._

_Henry isn't the only one having a sleepover._

* * *

Emma waited on the couch of her living room—already packed, nothing to do except whittle away at the contents of the bottle, unable to sleep—listening to the sound of the shower running as she took another drink.

It had all started out innocently enough.

_It took an hour for the alcohol to really hit Emma and she welcomed the buzzing sensation, even knowing it left her vulnerable, weakening the walls protecting her. Heavy silence covered them as they sat around her kitchen table. It lacked the awkward and uncomfortable sensation most lulls in conversation had, the weight of it more expectant, like it waited for a secret, for her to share thoughts normally protected by her walls._

_Afraid she'd listen to the silent request to spill her deepest emotions, Emma jumped in with the first innocuous question that popped into her head._

" _Why do you always wear the same outfit?"_

_An indignant look. "I don't, love."_

" _Okay, why do you always wear identical outfits?"_

_He fiddled with his fake hand but gave her the same direct stare he'd excelled at all evening. "Because after many hours of practice, I don't require aid to get dressed or undressed."_

_He was so confident she rarely considered the disadvantage he faced. "Modern clothes might be easier."_

_He raised an eyebrow at her. "Swan, are you trying to get me out of my clothing?"_

_A blush heated her cheeks. "It's just… Henry might wonder why we're going on a road trip with someone who looks like a…."_

" _A pirate, love?" He smirked at her. "But that's exactly what I am."_

" _Yes, but I can't tell him that. He doesn't have his memories. It's not like I can introduce you as Captain Hook. He'll think I've lost my mind." She dropped her head into her arms on the table in frustration._

" _You can call me whatever you like. As it happens, I do have another name should you wish to use it."_

_She looked up. "Killian?" The name stumbled off her tongue, feeling wrong when she was so used to saying "Hook"._

_A stunned expression traveled over his face, almost hiding the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he swallowed. "Aye, that's the one. I'm surprised you remember."_

_She arched an eyebrow at him. "I always remember the names of people I tie to trees and threaten to feed to ogres because they lied to me."_

" _Do that often, do you?"_

" _Exactly once. Makes it easy to remember."_

_A laugh escaped him. "Why do you think I make it a point tell you the truth?"_

_Her face softened, his words bringing back the unfurling warmth to her body. "You do, don't you?"_

_A small smile. "As if my very life depends on it."_

_Tension filled the room. A pull towards him. Needing to lighten the mood before she did something stupid._

" _For the sake of honesty, there's something I should tell you, Hoo—Killian." Dammit, she was going to have to work on his name._

_His eyes were wary now, uncertain. "What's that, love?"_

" _You smell like bologna."_

_His indignant expression and sputtering nearly sending her into a fit of giggles—she never giggled—until he met her eyes again and it morphed into a challenge—eyes smoldering and tongue tracing his lips._

_The liquid heat racing through her veins._

" _Just what do you propose I do about it, love?"_

Yeah, introducing Hook to her shower hadn't been a bad idea at all.

What the hell had she been thinking?

_The bathroom was large by New York standards, but too small with him filling the room. She showed him how to turn on the shower and adjust the temperature, brushing by his body as she left to grab towels. She returned to the room to find his vest removed, prepared to pull off his shirt, the lower edge of his abdomen exposed._

_Unable to keep herself from checking him out until her eyes traveled up and met his burning ones._

" _Like what you see, darling?"_

_Her cheeks flamed as she shoved the towels at him. "To dry yourself off."_

_And then she just stood there, unable to look away. Unable to move. Wishing she could pick up where they'd left off, but it was too soon—something her body refused to acknowledge._

" _You're welcome to stay and watch. I could always use help washing my ba—"_

_Legs finally moving, escaping the room in panic._

She shook her head.

She'd forgotten about the pull that always drew her towards him—even when he'd been on the other side of a fight.

She just had to get used to him again and they could be…

_What? Friends?_

They were.

In fact, somehow the pirate had become the closest friend she'd ever had _—_ the one person who never judged her, he just understood her.

_A blessing._

_And a curse._

Because she couldn't stop thinking about him… naked... in her shower.

_Must be the alcohol._

Rushing into something with Hook when a few hours ago she'd been breaking up with Walsh…

_A goddamn monkey for—_

It was wrong. No matter how right it felt having him back in her life.

_What life? I'm The Savior. This life of lies was as close as I will get to a happy ending and in it I almost married a—_

The water shut off and Emma finished her drink, quickly pouring another one before she had to face Hoo—Killian again.

_Killian. Killian. Killian. You have to call him Killian._

She focused on retraining her brain, trying not to think of what he'd look like with rivulets of water sliding across the defined abs she'd glimpsed.

_Goddammit! Focus!_

_Killian. Killian. Killian._

Emma heard the bathroom door open.

Bare feet lightly struck the hard wood floors as he approached.

Her brain buzzed, the outer edges of her vision slightly softened, like the edges of a photoshopped picture. She focused on the drink in her hand.

_Don't look at Hook._

_Don't look at KILLIAN._

_I'm never going to get his name right._

"Really, Swan? What did I do to incur your ire?"

"What are you talking about?"

She couldn't help it.

She peeked.

She brought her eyes up slowly, noting his bare feet, toned calves, the beginning of his well-muscled thighs—familiar thanks to the form-fitting leather pants he always wore—the blue towel clasped around his waist by his good hand, and the dark line of hair going down his chiseled abdomen, leading straight to his—

"Am I supposed to wear this as a form of punishment?"

Her face aflame yet again, she finally ripped her eyes from his form, looking at the robe draped over his left arm.

The very pink, Pepto-Bismol colored robe.

Something she had neglected to notice in her distracted state when she'd pulled it from the back of her closet.

She fought to hold in a smile, painting a serious expression on her face. "I thought you should wear a little more color."

His incredulous expression was priceless.

"I think the warm hue will really highlight your chest hair." This time she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from curling upwards.

Hook's lips twitched. "Is that right?"

She bit her lip, fighting to hold back a laugh, and nodded.

"If the lady insists." He bowed slightly, turning to leave.

_He wasn't really going to…_

"Hoo—"  _No, Killian!_  "Killian, you don't have to wear it."

He shrugged. "I'm afraid I have to."

"Why?"

"Because it makes you smile, love." His answering grin twisted something inside her.

Her eyes tracked his movements, drinking in his bared back, the curve of his butt beneath the towel— _it was probably a good thing he usually hid it beneath his coat or he'd have a harem following him everywhere_ —until he disappeared down the hallway.

_How does he do that? How can he make me want to laugh and cry at the same time?_

_You know why…_

_She took a too large gulp of her drink._

_Killian. Killian. Killian._

* * *

They sat on the couch and somehow she found herself tucked into his side, her cheek against the pink robe he still wore as the clocked ticked past midnight.

"I do believe you are quite drunk, love."

"Are you telling me to stop?" Her words slurred a bit and she silently admitted he had a point.

"I wouldn't dream of it." His arm draped over her shoulder, his hand fingering her hair. "Just keep in mind I do not know how to drive your vessel to Storybrooke tomorrow."

"I know my limits." She'd passed them a few drinks ago. "And tonight I don't give a shit."

They no longer bothered with glasses, occasionally passing the bottle of liquor between them and taking a swig.

"A sentiment I can understand all too well, lass."

She would never be able to drive tomorrow if she didn't stop soon and, come the dawn, she had to be The Savior.

 _Goddammit_.

"I should probably switch to water." She struggled to stand and used his arm as leverage to rise to her feet. "Want any?"

"I'm fine. My tolerance has barely been tested tonight." He winked at her.

_Of course not._

She groaned, going into the kitchen, downing a glass and half of water, swaying slightly.

_Maybe I'm finally exhausted enough I'll be able to fall asleep._

_Note to self—never try to best him in a drinking game._

She stumbled back, eyeing the man who managed to still appear sexy in a pink bathrobe.

_It really does show off all his chest hair._

_And his legs._

_He does have nice legs._

She giggled.

_What am I twelve?_

"Do you need something, Swan?" His eyebrow was raised again, and the serious tone was back in his voice. She realized she'd been blatantly staring at him.

And she didn't care.

_Definitely had too much to drink._

She yawned as if on cue. "Sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow."

A small nod. "Aye. Goodnight then."

"Night, Hook."

She was halfway to her room before she remembered.

_Killian. Killian. Killan._

* * *

She couldn't sleep. Her intoxicated brain replayed Walsh transforming into a flying monkey over and over.

She had to drive tomorrow. Be the Savior.

Return to Storybrooke and her family.

_Will they remember me?_

She would not be able to do that with a hangover and on less than five hours of sleep.

_Dammit._

_Talk to your friend. Maybe he can help._

_This is a bad idea._

_Or the best idea._

Releasing a frustrated sigh, she hauled herself out of bed—nearly tripping on a pair of shoes she'd neglected to put away—and shuffled back to the living room.

The lights were still on— _had she shown him where the switches were_?—and she could clearly see him stretched out on the couch, eyes closed, bottle in hand.

Still in the bathrobe, which somehow remained perfectly wrapped around his body, refusing to allow a peek at any other… attributes.

"Did you forget something, Swan?"

She jumped—his closed eyes hadn't even twitched—and she wasted a glare in his direction.

 _Pirate_.

"Are you going to stand there all night, love?"

"I can't sleep."

His eyes flipped open and he met her gaze. "Do you want the bottle then?"

She shook her head. "I'd never be able to drive. No, I want—"

— _you._

_Yeah, that wouldn't sound misleading._

"I need—"

_Shit! That was just as bad._

_This was a really bad idea._

"Swan?"

It was the alcohol. Its haze gave the illusion of protection—walls weren't needed, or boundaries—she could speak her mind.

"I just…I thought I might be able to sleep if I had… someone…to…talk to?

_Even with alcohol this was awkward._

"Is that a question or a statement, darling?"

_Dammit!_

She didn't have time for this. A town needed her.

_I can't let whoever sent Walsh win._

"Will you just please come to my room and keep me company and not read anything into it? You're the only one I can turn to right now." She blurted out the words fast, hoping he understood her through the inebriated drawl.

_Don't think about what happens if he says no._

She couldn't look at him—her emotional cap for the day long obliterated—and swayed back and forth— _definitely drunk_ —until she heard him stand up.

"Far be it from me to deny you anything, Swan."

His bare feet came into view. His hand rose until it gently nudged her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

Whatever deeper emotion he might have felt was hidden behind the mischief in his eyes. "But I must ask you to not take advantage of me in my current state of undress." He winked at her and leaned forward, whispering in her ear. "I have it on very good authority this color does wonders for showing off certain  _attributes_."

It started as another giggle before gaining momentum, until it rolled into full body laughter.

_Maybe I should get drunk more often._

_I haven't laughed this hard in…._

She laughed until her sides hurt and she nearly lost her balance, swaying into Hook and his highlighted attributes.

It only made her laugh harder.

_I will never be able to use Pepto-Bismol with a straight face again._

* * *

"I'm sorry, darling, but I thought you said flying monkey?" He lay next to her in the bed, head propped into his right hand—still in the hideous robe—behaving exactly as a gentleman should.

Only... occasionally she caught a hint of something more in his gaze, before he masked it with banter.

She was grateful—this was what she needed now—but it also confused the hell out of her.

_Why didn't he take advantage of the moment?_

_I wouldn't push him away. He has to know that._

_Maybe he wants more._

"A flying goddamn monkey. Seriously. A creepy one too." She shuddered.

_I have the worst taste in men._

_All but one._

_He should really wear more pink._

"Swan, I had no idea your proclivities ran toward the simian variety."

She rolled over from her back long enough to punch him in the shoulder—the robe absorbing most of the shock. "Watch it, buddy. I know where you're sleeping tonight. Unless you want to wake up with a shaved head, I suggest you don't piss me off."

"So it's not the simian part that does it for you, but rather the wings? Have you ever met Maleficent, love? I think the two of you wo—" His words cut off with a grunt as her elbow jabbed into his solar plexus, noting his robe still remained close, as if sealed by magic. "You may have a point. One argument and your entire domicile would be ablaze."

She snorted with laughter. Again.

_Will he never cease to surprise me?_

A yawn hit her and she peered at the clock, groaning at the time.

Morning would arrive far too early.

"As fun as this is, we should really get some sleep."

The bed shifted as he sat up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "To sleep? Per your request."

"Stay." It came out too soft, too serious.

And his eyes…

The emotion in them terrified her.

_Dammit!_

_Fix it._

"Just in case any flying monkeys happen by. I've heard they love the color pink."

A sad smile crept over his face before he masked it and he lay back down on the bed. "Luckily I've got you to protect me."

She rolled over, turning off the nightstand lamp and plunging the room into darkness. "It's what friends do."

Exhaustion overtook her along with another yawn. "Go to sleep, Hook."

"Sleep well, love."

_I will._

_Thanks to you._

Somehow, their hands found each other in the dark, fingers threading together as she drifted off to sleep.

Her mind still reminding her…

_Killian. Killian. Killian._

* * *

_Darkness._

_Warmth wrapped around her._

_Secure._

_Safe._

_Home._

_Sleep._

* * *

"Wake up, darling." A nudge on her shoulder.

"Goway." Her words were muffled as she struggled to stay asleep.

"Your son will be home any minute."

A shot of adrenaline coursed through her and she bolted out of bed, thankful her hangover appeared to be mild.

_Wait, hangover?_

_Last night I…_

_Oh shit._

Hook was there, in her bedroom, fully dressed in his usual leather as he stood next to her, his expression far too amused.

_What was he doing here?_

_Henry!_

"You need to leave. Now. Right now." She grabbed his wrist, pulling and dragging him toward the front door.

"That was the plan, yes. I just thought you might appreciate it if I awoke you first."

"Smartass." She released him, undoing the lock before pushing him out the door. "You can't be here. Go buy some coffee or rum or whatever the hell you drink in the morning and come back in thirty minutes."

He winked at her. "Good morning to you too, love."

"Go!" She closed the door before he distracted her any longer and bolted for the shower.

As she prepared to step into the spray, she noticed something.

For some reason… she smelled like Hook.

_No, not Hook._

_Killian. Killian. Killian._

_Dammit._

_What the hell happened last night?_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is probably one of the most written Captain Swan scenes for fan fiction, but none that I read really explained the swagger, the teasing, and the banter that followed in the next episodes to the point I saw them as complete canon. Why did Hook keep bringing up the flying monkey thing?
> 
> As much as I love the idea of them getting together that night, I might revolt of the show pulled an off-screen scene like that (I still haven't forgiven the X-Files. Or Bones).
> 
> What did you think?
> 
> As always, many thanks to Arandil, my amazing beta.
> 
> Review?


	3. Operation Crocodile (4x04)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I hate hate HATE the plot line of Killian agreeing to "whatever it takes" with Rumple. The writers have shown Hook to be smart, strategic, and while he is flawed and makes mistakes, I cannot in any realm of the universe accept that Killian Jones would ever agree to such an open ended deal with the man who killed his first love, cut off his hand, and inspired 300 years of revenge plotting. Just…. No.
> 
> So upon reading the below on tumblr (myfirstbeanstalk I think), I find I can only accept this plot line if it was actually Hook's idea all along:  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> What if the whole time we think Killian has kept this from Emma, but the moment Rumple tries to throw him under the bus, Emma will smile slowly and say, "I know…Killian trusted me enough to tell me from the beginning."
> 
> Rumple will look over at Hook in school and he'd just smile and say, "It's not the first time someone has blackmailed me about Emma…I didn't tell her the first time, but I learn from my mistakes and told her. It was her idea to keep up the rouse."
> 
> Emma would smirk and say, "We called it Operation Crocodile."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Takes place during 4x04 and prior to 4x05, though it still fits canon through 4x07).

 

* * *

**Operation Crocodile**

The epiphany came as Killian stared at the blood on his left hand, the stunned gaze on the thief's face bringing him back to reality. He put on his best Captain's mask to ensure the man's silence and moved out of view, studying the offending appendage.

Energy had risen in the hand, cold and furious, and there had been nothing he could do to stop it.

" _This hand belonged to the man you used to be: a cunning, selfish pirate. If I reunite this with your body, there's no telling what influence it could have on you."_

There was a moment, a single moment, where Killian worried that he, the villain he'd been, bore responsibility.

_And what, suddenly I became left-handed after living centuries of using my right hand?_

No, the evil in his body was not him, old or new; it was something else. His hand was now a threat Killian would have to remove and he knew exactly what the Dark One's goal was.

 _Revenge_.

The answer was so simple, so familiar, he nearly laughed at his inability to see it sooner. The question was, for what exactly did Rumplestiltskin seek retribution?

_Milah leaving him? Possibly._

_Seeing his enemy happy and in love with the woman his son had loved? Likely._

_The blackmail? Most certainly._

_Bloody hell._

He cursed his confidence—running high after besting the Crocodile the day before—for it had clouded his judgment, blocking out the blatant clue that his deal with the imp was not all it seemed to be.

_All magic comes with a price._

_But what price would the Dark One want him to pay?_

The Crocodile would want retribution first and foremost, to force Killian under his thumb. To do that, the man had to have a nefarious plan, a task, a job,  _something_  that would give him control over Killian if he dared agree.

Killian cursed again, as it hit him.

_That means my leverage about the dagger is likely gone and the bloody Dark One has a plan evil enough that he will force me into becoming his puppet._

_Damn._

He sighed and looked at his left hand, knowing that to rid himself of it, he would have to play Rumplestiltskin's game.

_I will follow the rules and act the fool and therefore will witness firsthand what darkness he has planned._

_And it will be his undoing._

* * *

The hook sank into the Dark One's chest and Killian played up his horror, his shock, his desperation, careful to hide the part of him that enjoyed the action.

Because Killian had been right.

 _Rumplestiltskin is trying to ruin all I hold dear and those actions will likely place Emma_   _at risk._

Good thing he had a few centuries of practice in channeling rage into whichever persona kept him alive.

Killian held the smile within as the man told him to meet him in the morning, not releasing it until he exited the vehicle and strode back to Granny's.

_And now... now it was time to inform Swan about the Crocodile who'd taken the bait and swallowed the hook._

* * *

"Did he fall for it?" Swan's green eyes met his as he entered his room, the question obvious in her gaze.  _Are you okay?_

Killian flexed the fingers in the hand, ice somehow bubbling beneath the skin. "Aye. I'm to meet him at the docks in the morning." He remained by the door, afraid to approach her should the energy take over.

"What does he want you to do?" She moved toward him—she'd changed since their date, donning her red leather jacket—crossing the small space.

He tucked his left arm behind him.

_Safety first._

"He neglected to inform me of the nature of my task, but if I'm right and it's something he plans to hold as leverage over me, it can't be good." He pressed his left arm into the door, hoping to keep it immobilized and away from her.

Naturally Swan had other ideas. She held out her open palms in invitation and when he only allowed his right hand to respond—fingers lacing together—she glared at him.

"Swan…I—" He could feel the cold sharpening in his other hand.

_Don't touch her._

"Let me see it."

"I don't believe that—"

"Killian, let me see your damn hand."

_Listen to her. She's the Savior. She has magic._

He sighed, arching an eyebrow as he complied. "Damned is certainly the right word for it."

She gasped at the bloody knuckles, carefully tracing around them with her thumb before linking her fingers with his. "Are you okay?"

Her warmth and light seeped into his skin and the icy energy quieted.

_Bloody amazing woman._

"I've had far worse."

Her thumbs caressed the side of his palms and he tried not to let her see how it affected him.

_Now is not the time._

"Need help bandaging it?"

_I want her nowhere near it._

"Best leave it as it is to keep up the ruse."

"How's the other guy?"

He grimaced. "Drunk but very much alive, I assure you."

"Killian…"

"I can't control it, Swan. Our plan is in play and by tomorrow the cursed thing will be gone, but until then, it might be best for you to keep your distance."

"I've fought a fire breathing dragon, a giant, a demonic teenager, a green witch, and an ice queen. I think I can handle one hand." She swayed toward him. "Especially one of yours."

His gut clenched at the implication, the bed behind her taunting him.

_Perhaps next time._

_After you fix this._

"Once the Dark One returns my hook, I'm all yours, darling."

_As if I wasn't already._

"After you help him do something illegal."

"Most likely, or he'll have nothing with which to threaten me."

"I could arrest him. I am the Sheriff." She increased the pressure, giving both hands a reassuring squeeze as she smiled at him.

He couldn't help himself— _closer, I need her closer_ —his voice lowering as he fit his body against hers. "Somehow I doubt he'd go quietly, and even if he did, your brig cannot hold him. Plus it would show our hand and we'll never discover his plans."

Her smile transformed into a seductive one and his body hardened in response. "I could lock you up in jail. Gold can't expect you to meet him if you're my prisoner." Her words were a whisper on his lips and Killian tried to remember why he dared not kiss her.

"I admit, your suggestion is tempting as that cell often possesses the most beautiful view in Storybrooke." His right hand slipped free from hers and he brushed his thumb against her chin, continuing along the line of her jaw with the back of his hand until he cupped her neck, fingers threaded into her soft tresses. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You realize you'd have to keep me locked up forever or you'll only delay the inevitable?"

She leaned into him and her breath hitched as her body pressed into his, forcing him to bite back a moan. "I can live with that." The naked vulnerability in her eyes nearly undid him. "It would keep you safe."

"At the cost of how many other lives?" He brushed his lips across hers—damn he loved kissing her—careful to make it light. "I've got this, love."

"Just…be careful. If Gold found out what we're up to before we have proof…" He read the worry on her face.

"Rumplestiltskin has held my heart in his hands, ready to rip it out. He's cut off my hand. He's drowned me. He's used magic to nearly choke the life out of me." His lips caressed hers again. "And yet, I'm still here."

Emma shook her head. "I saved you from at least two of those."

He winked at her. "You are the Savior. I suppose it comes with the territory."

"How are you even still alive?" He heard the request for more reassurance.

"Perhaps my fate was to find you."  _To love you._

Emma rolled her eyes—as she so often did when uncomfortable about accepting affection—shaking her head even as she pressed her forehead to his. "As long as I don't lose you now that you found me. Deal?"

"Deal."

Her lips met his in a deceptively chaste kiss—his thumb on her wrist detected her rapid heartbeat—the emotion passing between them crystal clear.

_Don't leave me._

_Forgive me for what I will have to do._

He waited for Emma to finally pull away, unwilling to do it himself. "I should sneak back into the loft." At his raised eyebrow she continued, "Well you said be discreet. You try escaping an apartment with two protective parents, a magical ice maker, and an infant who at any time might wake up the entire place." She rolled her eyes again. "I really need to get my own place."

He nodded his head. "I wholeheartedly agree, love. I best go play my part and wallow like the desperate man I'm supposed to be."

She bit her lower lip as she smiled at him. "Good night, Killian. And thanks for telling me the truth."

He winked at her, conveying a joviality he did not feel. "At least it's merely my hand this time and not my lips." Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward and placed delicate kiss on her right cheek. "Good night, Swan." He turned, pulling open the door and leaving his room.

The ice returned, sending a pulse through his left hand.

_Time to resume my role in Operation Crocodile._

He pulled out his rum bottle, taking a nip and adding a stumble to his walk as he exited Granny's through the diner—Granny's glare of disapproval so heavy he swore it branded his back.

 _Excellent_.

He focused on the river of ice now flowing through his left hand as he turned toward the docks.

_Game on, Crocodile._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my new beta, BirdOfOrk, for keeping my writing tight and on point when I wished to ramble.
> 
> Anyone else agree with me?
> 
> Review?


	4. All She Saw Was Fear (4x07)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this "technically" isn't a CS "deleted" scene because Emma isn't present, but it is very much about Killian's and Emma's relationship (and dose of Snowing) so I'm still posting it here because I have some issues with the sacrifice of characters-for-plot the show has done with the last several episodes… (and I had such hope they were going to fix Snow after the date episode...sigh).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene picks up with Snow's last line in 4x07 (The Snow Queen).

"David, we failed today. When our daughter needed us most she looked in our eyes and all she saw was fear. The Snow Queen has some mirror that turns us against each other. Well, she doesn't need it. Look at us. We're doing it to ourselves."

_No, you're doing it to your own daughter._

Killian shifted uncomfortably, biting back the words he wanted to snap at Snow White.

He'd known something was off with Emma when they'd stormed the clock tower, but she'd waved him off, focused on capturing the Snow Queen. The guilty words of her mother reminded Killian that Swan was supposed to be watching the little prince that morning.

_What the bloody hell happened after I left Swan at the station to make her terrified of her own magic?_

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to keep looking for her." Killian's frustration simmered under the surface, trying to escape. He needed to leave before he spoke words he'd later regret.

David turned to him, studying his face, finally giving him a nod. "We'll stay here in case she comes back."

_She won't._

"Do you want some help?" Elsa fidgeted with her hands, her worry obvious. "I might be able to reach her." She gave an apologetic smile to Swan's parents. "I know what it's like to have those you love fear you."

"No offense, lass, but the last time we went searching through the woods together, the Snow Queen tried to kill me so the town would blame you." He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll likely be safer alone." He turned to leave, walking to the door, only to have a hand on his arm stop him.

"Be careful, okay? Emma's not herself." David's warning sounded from behind him.

Killian twisted, meeting the man's gaze. "That's what you don't seem to get, mate. She is who she's always been. The only difference is Emma used to run because she feared getting hurt. This time she's afraid she'll be the one to cause harm." Killian's eyes tracked to Snow, unable to disguise the censure in them. "The same magic you fear has saved me and the people of this town on multiple occasions. Remember that when you see her again."

The grip on his arm loosened and Killian left the apartment without another word.

His unease grew as he walked down the stairs.

They'd walked right into the Snow's Queen's trap and she had used it to sink her claws into Emma. The fear and horror in Swan's eyes at the station had sliced through him, and yes, he'd been afraid, but not for himself. For her.

_I never should have left her alone with the bloody ice witch, knowing they shared a history._

_You didn't know, mate, and Swan prefers to handle these matters alone._

_But she doesn't have to, not anymore._

Killian had witnessed first-hand how the Snow Queen wanted to isolate Elsa and turn the town against her. It simply hadn't occurred to him—or the others for that matter—that she would attempt the same tactic with Emma.

 _Or that it had a bloody chance in hell of working_.

Emma was the Savior, not a stranger like Elsa. While her magic was unpredictable, Killian couldn't imagine the town she'd repeatedly saved turning on her.

Of course, he hadn't anticipated Snow White's reaction, either.

_Bloody hell._

He exited the building and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, flipping it open and pushing the Emma button.

_Pick up, sweetheart. Please._

"Hey this is Emma. Leave a message."

Killian hated this damn thing.

"Isn't the entire point of this device to have someone answer on the other end?" He tried to lace the complaint with humor—she had insisted he carry it for that very purpose after all—and took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. "I don't know what the Snow Queen told you in that station, but I know you, Swan. I know how when you're afraid you push away those you care about. I know you'd do anything to protect your family. And you have. Your magic is a part of you, love, and without it, those in this town would have been destroyed long ago. It protected you from Cora. It saved me in Neverland. It's how we were able to travel back to this time. You can use your magic to beat the bloody ice witch at her own game." Killian knew his time was short, and hurried his next words. "I need to know you're alright, Swan. If you refuse to do it in person, perhaps you could use your telephone to—"

A beep sounded and Killian cursed as the message cut off.

He needed to see her. His words were just that—words. Swan placed far more trust in actions and he had to show her— _dammit_ —that he trusted her.

Killian had to explain how, even when she'd claimed to have lost control, the invisible tug of magic had surrounded him. He hadn't known why at time—so focused on Swan he'd not seen the pole falling toward him—but it had been there, warm and electric, much like when Swan had rescued him and David from the icicles.

_She was going to save me. Again._

Then someone had shoved him from behind—the prince certainly knew how to demonstrate his full approval—and the pain on Swan's face as the object struck her father was like a blow to his own heart.

Swan had run away before he'd been able to inform her that if it hadn't been for her father's penchant for heroism, her actions would have harmed no one.

_And really, it only grazed the prince. I hit him much harder in Neverland._

Killian fiddled with the buttons on his phone, making sure he'd hear it if Emma tried to reach him. He set off with a purposeful stride, his destination a stretch of woods far away from Hood's camp.

_I will find you, love._

_I just hope the bloody witch doesn't find me first._

_I might not be as forgiving for what she's done to you, foster mother or not._

Emma wasn't the only one willing to do whatever it took to keep loved ones safe.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to BirdOfOrk for her beta skills.
> 
> A/N and rant: I almost miss Neal because he used to the be character sacrificed for plot and now it appears to be Snow (or occasionally...Hook). This was my therapy to deal with Snow from that episode and my new head canon to make sure she never, ever does it again (you hear me, writers?). /end rant
> 
> Anyone else agree?
> 
> Review? All feedback welcomed.


	5. (4x22) "If I had known this was going to happen..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A "deleted" scene from the S4 finale, taking place after Emma tackles Killian on top of her bed and he says, "Of course, love. It's all in a day's work for a hero."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day #7 prompt from http://cswritingchallenge.tumblr.com/
> 
> "If I had known this was going to happen..." 
> 
> (rated a very heavy "T"...)

_**"If had known this was going to happen..." - 4x22 Deleted Scene** _

_"Of course, love. It's all in a day's work for a hero."_

Emma allowed her eyes to say what her lips could not, stroking her thumb along his cheek, bringing her forehead to his.

His eyes fluttered closed and his tongue swiped his lip as it so often did when something was on his mind.

It hit Emma that this was the first time Killian had been in her room and, as the heat gradually built between them where her legs straddled his thighs, her underwear growing damp, she remembered why.

They didn't talk about the unstated rules of their relationship— _he's perceptive and reads her and somehow knows_. How her fears held her back from truly being his— _he made it clear he has been hers for a long time_. How their kisses couldn't cross a line. How they could crush and hold each other in their arms as long as their hips remained apart.

They learned that lesson the night she had returned his heart and only the untimely— _timely?_ —interruption of Leroy had brought them to their senses.

Their bodies called to one another— _his muscles tighten with her touch, the hunger beneath apparent with every shudder that ripples through him_ —much like the pieces of their hearts, but having him, giving into the pull and letting him slide inside of her to finally complete their bond, it would make it real.

It would change things.

Much like the words she needed to say that remained stuck in her throat.

_I love you._

Their current position broke every unspoken rule between them, but Emma had to touch him, to show him what she couldn't say. To reassure herself they were— _he_   _was_ —real and very much alive.

It didn't take much, the slight curling of her fingers around the nape of his neck, gently nudging her nose against his, and Killian's lips met hers in a deceptively chaste kiss. The cords of his neck tensed under her fingers, but his mouth was light, as if he had all the time in the world. The hand on her hip turned firm, and the cool curve of his hook slipped beneath her jacket, digging into her lower back.

Heat coiled in her belly, begging for more.

_Dammit, he feels good._

_It isn't enough._

_She needs to push back the memory of him collapsing to the ground._

_She needs him._

She held him in place, her other fist curled in the lapel of his jacket, taking a moment to breathe him in before continuing the kiss. This time she demanded more as her lips parted, her tongue running along the seam of his mouth until it opened. Killian swallowed her moan as his tongue tangled with hers.

_I love you._

The taste of him— _spiced rum and salt and is pirate a flavor?_ —overwhelmed her and she forgot everything but him.

She shifted her weight, finding the hardened ridge that had formed and— _god_ —a strangled groan erupted from Killian, the sinful sound causing her thighs to tighten around him.

Emma drank in his next groan— _he is setting her on fire and she's barely touched him and she's ready to combust_ —and a part of her remembered they should be quiet, even if she couldn't remember why.

_He's alive. He's here. He's mine._

_I love you._

"I just… I need…" She struggled to form the words as she fought for breath.

And he read her, his open book. Again.

His hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek, the line of her jaw. She shivered as his mouth sought hers.

Soft and languid. Tender.

_I love you._

Her fingers fumbled with his vest and shirt buttons— _why are there so many damn buttons?_ —her hands shaking as the kiss continued, his knuckles grazing her neck.

She found his bare skin and Killian shuddered in response. The tips of her fingers traced the muscled planes of his stomach, the curves of his sides. A deep exhale whooshed out of him, as if he'd been holding his breath, the warm air a kiss between kisses.

She pushed him backwards onto the bed, the action ending the kiss, his eyes boring in hers, burning her alive.

_I love you._

Emma tore her gaze from him, her eyes drifting down to his exposed skin. His pirate shirts had revealed a lot, but they'd been a mere tease.

She leaned forward to gently rake her nails through the whorls of hair decorating his chest— _it isn't intentional, the roll of her hips grinding into his length_ —and a choked moan vibrated where her body met his. Killian's back arched up— _don't think about what it would be like to ride him_ —every muscle drawn taut, like a caged animal waiting to strike.

_Holy—_

And she wanted…

_If only I could say the words._

_I love you._

Her lips repeated the actions of her fingers— _she shouldn't be doing thi_ s—and his eyes rolled back, his hand twisting into the bedspread. His hook clanged— _too loud_ —against the brass of the headboard, and his jaw clenched as if to hold back another groan. Their eyes met briefly, a question in hers— _should I stop?_ —his answer quite clear— _bloody hell, but whatever you need, lov_ e. So she continued, paying special attention to the area over his heart, savoring the racing beat.

_He died for me. He almost…_

_I love you._

Killian's gaze found hers again, and he must have read something there— _to think she used to hate that ability_ —because his hand lifted. His thumb wiped away a tear— _when did that happen?_ —before he unlatched his hook from the headboard and rolled them over to their sides.

He tugged her tight against his body, her head tucked beneath his, so her ear rested over his heart.

"I know, love."

* * *

David paced in the kitchen, his eyes occasionally tracking upstairs. "They've been up there a while." He wasn't sure what bothered him more, the muffled noises he'd heard earlier—mumbles of conversation followed by things he did not need to hear, including a loud clang of metal—or the echo of stark silence for the last ten minutes.

Mary Margaret smiled, their son tight in her arms, and gave him a too-knowing look. "What are you going to do? Kill him again?"

David ran his fingers through his hair, unable to hide the guilt over his actions as an evil henchman—he didn't recognize his own daughter, but somehow, in that other world, the pirate had, and he'd died to protect her. If they were doing something—not that they were; it would be pretty brazen of Killian to do anything with them downstairs—but if they were…

"If I had known this was going to happen… I'd have let him kill me instead." David shook his head, striding across the kitchen and grabbing his truck keys. "What do you say we drop Neal at Granny's and take care of Isaac while those two… talk."

Mary Margaret raised a brow at him, a small laugh escaping before she spoke again, her voice unnaturally loud. "Let me just grab the diaper bag and we can get out of here. Emma, we'll be sure to lock the door behind us."

The rumble of the pirate's chuckle mingling with Emma's giggle was the last thing David heard, and he quickly hid his grin from his wife.

_Maybe the pirate will forgive me after all._

* * *

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to nowforruin and OnceSnow for their beta work.
> 
> Feel free to share your opinion of yet another, very popular scene for fanfiction... (perhaps only broken by chapter 2's "Sleepover"...) How did I do?
> 
> Love it? Hate it? DID WE NEED THIS DAMMIT?!?
> 
> (ahem...)


End file.
